


Chrome

by dianekepler



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Feels, Fluff, Just Burly Guys Having Fun, M/M, Misuse of technology, Paladin Danse is kinda slow sometimes, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8192950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dianekepler/pseuds/dianekepler
Summary: Danse is impressed by Sturges' craftsmanship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For @danse-or-farkas, co-winner of my [50 Follower Giveaway](https://kepl3rian.tumblr.com/post/150979128412/countdown-to-50-drabble-giveaway). Sorry it, uh, grew a little. You know how that goes, right? When something unintentionally swells up? 
> 
> Doubles as a fill for Day 2 of [Kinktober 2016](https://kepl3rian.tumblr.com/post/151221313812/kinktober).

The heat in Danse’s face was intense. It was worse lower down, like someone had opened the door to a blast furnace, but he couldn’t stop staring. 

They were arranged on the old quilt by size, from just wider than a finger to substantial enough that his eyebrows went north of forty-nine, as Danse used to hear on pre-war holotapes, although he’d never figured out what that meant. 

Danse’s forehead was laddered up as well, more than likely in the exact same way as when Sturges’ shirt came off at the water pump behind the garage two days ago. It had evoked the same response: tight throat, sweaty palms and that rush of heat along his inseam as he watched the reddening sunlight caress Sturges, catch the water that he splashed up over his face and arms. Stray drops flecked the hair that spread out in fine symmetry from his breastbone. Danse wanted to lay his head down on it, maybe after being taken for a ride on whatever Sturges was hiding underneath those overalls. The man’s looks and his easy smiles seemed to say he wouldn’t mind. 

What else he might want was now increasingly unclear as Danse took in — what he _saw_ — in the trunk at the foot of Sturges’ bed. There was no mistaking those shapes. You didn’t get to be a paladin — ex-paladin, he amended — without hearing detailed inventories of what could and had been confiscated from errant knights in the past. _Misuse of technology_ was the phrase on reports, when such items were taken, although this wasn’t technology, this was art. The steel obelisks were perfectly shaped. Deep as his embarassment ran, Danse itched to ask Sturges how he’d managed to cast them when even their —the Brotherhood’s — scribes would be hard-pressed — _challenged!_ — to give anything such a flawless finish, though these were private and Danse shouldn’t even be looking. 

Especially now that Sturges was in the doorway. “It’ll be in the — oh.”

Danse was on his feet in an instant, the shame of being caught killing any erection he may or may not have had. But forming words was too much; his brain felt like it had fused and trying to explain only made Sturges hold up a hand. 

“Sorry. Came in here when I remembered it was unlocked.” Sturges’ hand was on his own nape, rubbing at something that may or may not have been real. He crossed to the dresser, where civilians evidently kept their clothes, and fished around for the plaid he’d meant Danse to wear now that his was soaked with hydraulic fluid from when he, not used to maintaining X-01s, had set the pressure too high and Danse, with the same level of experience, hadn’t bothered to check. 

The mechanic frowned at what he came up with and threw Danse a t-shirt when it looked like the first one wouldn’t fit. “Lemme take that. Like a regular oil stain, right?” 

“I can clean it back at the station” Avoiding the trip to Red Rocket had been Danse’s reason for accepting Sturges’ offer in the first place. 

“C’mon, let me at it.” He didn’t need to add that Danse’s wardrobe was limited since he’d come to live nearby. “Least I can do. Besides,” he put in wryly, “kitchen’s not as risky.”

That heat again, like treason on Danse’s face and behind his fly. Was Sturges making a pass? If so did he want Danse to take the place of any of those metal artifacts on the heirloom blanket in the trunk. The soldier’s throat went dry at the idea that the man he’d been wishing would take him take him somewhere private might like to get taken himself.

In the kitchen, with sound of cicadas and the smell of newly-mown hay in shocks outside the window, Sturges laid out Danse’s only button-down and rummaged around in the cupboards “You figure razormeal ought to do for a first pass?”

“That should work.” Danse wasn’t sure whether to stand or sit, or what to do with his hands. 

“Aw, hell, I’m out.” Sturges put the offending coffee tin back in the cupboard and bent over to peer into the one underneath the sink. One look at Sturges in that position and Danse had to adjust himself. 

“Nothing in here.” He turned to lean against the sink with his ankles crossed and his arms braced on the counter, gazing off into space. “Hm. There’s a bag of cat clay in the garage. I could —“

“Did you make them?” Danse blurted. 

Instead of looking shocked or insulted, Sturges smiled. “Sure did.”

“When?” 

“Awhile ago. Used to keep ‘em in my pack, that’s why they made it over from Quincy. Shined them once we had the walls up here. More time for fun when you don’t need to keep watch every night, you know.” Sturges tipped his chin down his gaze up at Danse whose heart beat faster. “You like ‘em?”

“Chromium plating’s not easy.”

An amused snort. “Danse, the day I can get you thinking about something besides armor mods’ll be a good one.” 

The taller man felt like it was important to look Sturges in the eye for what he said next. “That’s already happened.” 

“Well then I guess those hints sank in.” Sturges paused, his tone full of meaning. “How’d you like to?”

The mechanic was the all-over-hard that Danse craved, with a thick tongue and lips, fingers still oily from the shirt. They gripped Danse’s biceps as the men kissed their way out of reality and onto a higher plane, one that involved Surges squeezing Danse through his jeans and making appreciative noises as Danse unclipped Sturges’ radio, his tool belt, and the straps of his overalls. It left them free to slide inch by inch off the mechanic’s solid torso, teasing both men as their bodies twisted against each other. Soon it became clear, from Sturges’ naked hips that a denim bib was now the only thing keeping his equipment out of view

Sturges’ eyes were stone-dark. “You wanna take this to the back room?” he offered. 

“No,” said Danse. There was something in the way Sturges kissed, in the scents of grease and honest sweat, or how open he was to this attention, that made Danse want to take him right here, with no bed, and no awkward pause to go find one. 

“Thank you, Lord,” Sturges was heard to mutter. 

The man’s cock twitched so strongly Danse felt it even through two heavy layers. He stepped back to let one of them fall and watched Sturges bounce to freedom. He was thick and tapered, with a bit of a downward curve. The satiny feel against Danse’s rough palm took Danse literally to his knees, to press his nose against springy curls and take in the scent at the source. Another heartbeat and Danse sucked him, foreskin and all, right past his full lips. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” came the gasp over the sound of a hammer and Dogmeat wuffing at something outside. Danse paid no attention. That curve was making it easy to take Sturges, root to tip. 

After what seemed like half just a minute of deep-throating, the mechanic fumbled the curtains on the kitchen window closed and dragged Danse up again, responding to his raised brow with “It’s good, it’s, fuck, I just want you inside me.”

Battle-ready, Danse could change tactics in a second. “What’ve you got?”

“Olive oil.” 

“Save it.” He swept the plaid off the counter. It was soaked through. He just peeled down his jeans and lubed himself with a couple of strokes. And Sturges, once Danse spun him around.

“You want it here? Like this?”

“Ohgodfuck,” was the answer. Sturges reached back and actually lined Danse up right.

“You’re not ready.”

“You’re about a four,” Sturges said. “Trust me.”

Danse popped through on the first stroke. Two more and he was seated. The sudden tightness made him squeeze his eyes shut so the and sight of a thin t-shirt over Sturges’ muscled back wouldn’t make him lose it right there. He tried just one more thrust to see if they could handle this before he was sure. 

“This what you want?”

“Yeah. But … talk. I want to know it’s you.”

Another second passed, during which Danse had to clamp down hard on Sturges’ hips, as the feeling of being wanted not for what he looked like or what purpose he could serve, but for himself welled up. Most of the energy went into Danse’s straining cock, but some stayed up near his eyes and made them prickle. 

“I'll do that,” was all he could think to say, but Sturges quaked as if he’d heard a chorus of angels. 

The former paladin started in. Almost right away, the other man was panting, pushing back into Danse with ease, like they’d been practicing for months. 

“Why don’t you breathe a little louder,” Danse suggested. “I’m sure they’d want to hear you.”

“Unh.” Surges either loved the idea or just hearing about it.

“Or how about this?” Changing the angle just a bit made their bodies slap. 

“ _Yeah._ ”

“If only they could see that ass.” Danse was caught by the sight of light through the patterned curtains, shining soft on Sturges’ shoulders. On his back, when Danse stripped the shirt off to hold Sturges close with his thumb on a straining nipple. He flicked it once and then eased Sturges down so Danse could take off his own borrowed shirt and get back into the fray. 

“And so _tight._ ”

A whine broke off in Sturges throat. 

“How do you stay like that?” Really, Danse wasn’t sure how Sturges managed to play with those things and still feel this way, or where this strange dominance was coming from, or even how it made him somehow last when it had been nearly a year with no partner. Danse only knew that he needed this like air. 

He urged them on until the electric flash of him begging touched him off. The heat roared through his cock and Danse felt like he was filling mechanic up with more than they’d spilled just half an hour ago. He hung on, the growl stuck deep in his throat. He really wouldn’t be satisfied unless he could put a sound like that right into Sturges’ ear. 

Once he was in a state to do anything besides reel from the aftershocks, Danse took a deep breath and reached around, but Sturges’ hand closed over his before leaning back up and smoothing his hand down the back of Danse’s neck. “Can we take a few?” 

Those few involved Sturges toeing his boots off and nakedly leading Danse by the hand to his rumpled bed after all. Sturges dusted off a can of purified and watered both of them. 

“That’s better,” he crawled up beside Danse and lay down, still half hard. Danse couldn’t resist trailing fingers along ribs, a hip, a shaft. 

“Mhh,” Sturges groaned. He nestled deeper into the hollow of Danse’s shoulder. It sounded like a go-ahead. 

“So four is a … regular thing?” He inquired as Sturges firmed up. 

“Three’s for everyday, four’s for weekends.” Sturges rolled his hips into the slow tugging. 

“Five’s for harvest and Christmas?” 

“Yeah,” a lazy smile. “Though I’m thinking maybe now there should be a six.”

Danse sucked in a breath at the very thought.

“Could, uh, show you how I do the plating, if you want.”

Nate had been right in keeping the name of Sanctuary for this place, Danse reflected, before he pulled Sturges closer. “I want like you wouldn’t believe.”


End file.
